“By the Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: The imperial heirs are the foundation of the nation. Now, seven princes and two princesses have been selected, nine in total. They shall be tested in civil governance and martial arts to determine the next ruler. During the tests, the princes and princesses may each display their talents, but none may take another’s life. Violators shall be stripped of their titles and reduced to commoners. So decrees the Emperor.”
The moment Chief Eunuch Li Dequan finished reading the Imperial Edict,
Zhao Fan felt his mind go “buzz.” It wasn’t fear; he just thought it was absurd.
He had been transported to this world three days ago—no, it would be more accurate to say he had awakened memories of his past life three days ago.
He hadn’t even sorted out his predecessor’s memories yet, and now he’d been dragged into the struggle for the throne?
And the Emperor’s way of doing things was completely unconventional.
When other emperors wanted to pass on the throne, even if they favored one son in their hearts, they would at least pretend to be impartial in public, saying things like “the legitimate, the eldest, and the most worthy should inherit.”
But this one went straight to the point, decreeing, “The nine of you will compete. Any of you could become the next ruler!”
And he had even included the princesses.
What was this supposed to be? Wasn’t he clearly making them fight each other?
From his memories, Zhao Fan was seventeen years old and the Ninth Prince. Of course, this Emperor didn’t have only nine princes and princesses.
Only nine of them were adults, and among those nine, Zhao Fan was the youngest.
He stood at the very back of his brothers and sisters, his head lowered as his peripheral vision swept over both sides.
Eldest Prince Zhao Lingyu stood at the front, his broad back turned toward him. They shared the same mother.
Second Prince Zhao Lingyu stood below Eldest Brother, a confident smile playing on his profile.
Behind them were the Fourth Prince, Sixth Prince, Eighth Prince, Fifth Princess, and Seventh Princess.
Though these princes and princesses looked harmless, each represented a powerful faction.
Some were backed by civil officials, some by military generals, some represented aristocratic clans, and some were even geniuses from sects.
But behind him and his Eldest Brother, there was nothing at all.
There was no helping it. Their maternal grandfather’s entire family had been executed, their Empress Dowager mother was dead, and they had no faction at court to support them.
Before he could think about it any further,
“The court is dismissed!”
Li Dequan’s shrill voice brought Zhao Fan back to his senses.
The assembled officials cried, “Long live the Emperor!” The Emperor rose and left. His back looked far too youthful for someone about to pass on the throne.
The Emperor was Zhao Tianyan, sixty years old. He looked rather old, but for a Grandmaster Realm expert, that was only middle age. He could easily live another sixty years. He was in the prime of his life—why would he pass on the throne now?
As he followed the crowd out of the hall,
“Ninth Younger Brother.”
A hand came down on Zhao Fan’s shoulder. He looked up and saw Eldest Prince Zhao Lingyu.
His Eldest Brother was forty-two, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with a resolute face.
He looked like the sort of military general who would rather throw a punch than argue. But now, his eyes were full of concern.
“Come to my residence tomorrow. I have something to discuss with you,” Zhao Lingyu said quietly.
“All right.” Zhao Fan nodded.
The two left one after the other. As they passed Second Prince,
Zhao Fan heard a soft laugh.
“Ninth Younger Brother, congratulations.” Second Prince Zhao Lingyu spoke at a volume just loud enough for those nearby to hear.
“Imperial Father must think highly of you to have included you on the list. Do your best, and don’t bring shame on the royal family.”
His eyes were smiling as he said this, but it was the smile of someone enjoying a joke at another’s expense.
Zhao Fan smiled too. “Second Brother is right. I’ll certainly do my best.”
He sounded so sincere that the Second Prince froze for a moment, at a loss for what to say.
Of course, the other princes and princesses were merely watching from behind, enjoying the spectacle.
After leaving the palace gates, Zhao Fan climbed into his carriage.
It was neither particularly small nor particularly large. After all, an imperial prince was entitled to a certain degree of pomp, but that was all.
Zhao Fan leaned against the carriage wall and closed his eyes. For the past three days, his main focus had been sorting through his predecessor’s memories.
The dynasty he now lived in was called the Great Xuan Dynasty. It did not belong to any known dynasty in history.
This dynasty was both powerful and strange. Its strength lay in its formidable national power.
The Emperor’s cultivation was profound; he had reached the Grandmaster Realm, and no more than a handful of people in the world could match him.
The Grand Secretariat managed state affairs, so there was no endless pile of memorials to review. The Grand Court Assembly was held once a week.
Local officials were subject to a comprehensive evaluation system. Though corrupt officials still existed, the government as a whole functioned reasonably well.
The imperial treasury was also full, with more than enough to fund a major war. Why would the Emperor pass on the throne now?
And there was one empress and seven consorts in the Emperor’s harem. The Empress, Zhao Fan’s birth mother, had passed away.
The Seven Consorts each represented a different faction: the military, civil officials, aristocratic clans, sects, the jianghu, merchants, and foreign tribes.
Seven women, seven major factions—all packed into the harem, and each had borne children.
What kind of arrangement was this? It was like tying seven powder kegs together and lighting the fuse.
As for the Late Empress, she had been born into the most powerful clan, the Shen Family, whose head was a Great General who commanded the army.
But sixteen years ago, the Great General was executed on charges of colluding with the enemy, and the entire Shen Family was wiped out.
Not long afterward, the Empress also died “for no apparent reason” in the palace. Zhao Fan’s predecessor had only just been born and remembered nothing.
His Eldest Brother, Zhao Lingyu, had always protected him.
Over the years, without his Eldest Brother’s protection—both open and behind the scenes—he might have “died young” long ago.
It was all too common for children of the royal family to die young.
The carriage soon stopped in front of Zhao Fan’s residence. His prince’s residence was small, even a little shabby.
It was a three-courtyard compound.
Moss covered much of the flagstone path, a clear sign that the servants had been slacking off and not cleaning it properly.
He entered the main hall, sat down, and let out a long breath. He had seemed calm at court just now, but only he knew how panicked he really was.
He had crossed over into the Great Xuan Dynasty, and Heaven hadn’t treated him too badly—it had given him the identity of an imperial prince.
But being a prince here was less comfortable than being an ordinary person in his previous life.
In his previous life, he had also been called Zhao Fan. He was an office worker with a nine-to-five job. His mortgage weighed on him and his boss had a bad temper, but at least he didn’t have to worry about being murdered every day.
And now, here he was, caught up in the Nine Princes’ Succession Struggle as the ninth contender. The weakest one.
“Your Highness, you’re back?”
As Zhao Fan pondered, a shrill voice came from the doorway. A young eunuch in a gray robe entered carrying tea.
“Mm.” Zhao Fan answered casually.
The young eunuch was called Xiao Shunzi, and he was the most quick-witted person in the prince’s residence.
From his predecessor’s memories, Zhao Fan knew that his residence had twenty-one eunuchs, ten palace maids, ten female servants, and twenty guards.
That wasn’t a particularly large or small staff. For a newly established residence belonging to a prince like him, the ancestral rules called for, eighty to a hundred servants under normal circumstances. But what could he do? He wasn’t favored.
So, in a way, this did fit his status as the Ninth Prince.
And as for how many people in the residence were truly on his side, he had no idea.
Zhao Fan didn’t drink the tea.
He was lost in thought.
He had read plenty of webnovels in his previous life. In his current situation, wasn’t the protagonist supposed to awaken some kind of golden finger?
Or maybe a System, a pocket dimension, an old master, a jade pendant he could carry with him… Surely he had to have some kind of cheat, right?
Otherwise, this was far too difficult a start.